


Nandemonaiya

by EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, continued one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland/pseuds/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland
Summary: It was gradual, like water dripping on rocks. Slowly, slowly, slowly eroding away at the heart of their relationship.*this was a one shot that I decided to continue.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	1. That Night

They didn’t know when it started. There was no exact conversation or incident where either could look back and say _“If only I had done this differently”_ or _“I should have said that differently.”_ It was gradual, like water dripping on rocks. Slowly, slowly, slowly eroding away at the heart of their relationship. Every disagreement, every mistake, every insensitive comment were like ice expanding in the unknown crack in their relationship until it just could not hold any longer.

It was nothing. Probably another simple little thing forgotten, added to the long list simple little things Victor forgot. Likely another quiet off-hand comment from Yuuri set him off. Though they would both claim that they had many, they never actually a true argument. Victor would shout at him as loud as he could until Yuuri left, either locking himself in their guest room or staying at a hotel for the night. His anxiety couldn’t handle it. Victor knew that. Even as he heard the man he loved gasping through tears on the other side of the wall, sometimes he couldn’t stop himself. In the months living together, he found it harder and harder to not shout, not to slam doors, not to throw the occasional glass or freshly-emptied beer bottle.

That particular December night, as Yuuri pulled his heavy coat on over his pajamas, Victor hissed the worst thing he could have possibly said: “If you leave, don’t fucking come back.”

Yuuri paused in the middle of zipping up his coat. They stood in silence as heavy as the layers of blankets they used to snuggle under on chilly nights like that one. Neither could remember the last time they did. The sound of the zipper going the rest of the way up sliced through the quiet like their skates on the ice they fell in love on. Without a word, Yuuri grabbed his suitcase behind him. He gave his fiancé one last smile, his brown eyes full of tears, then turned and walked out the door.

The moment the door closed softly and the lock quietly clicked, Victor was on his knees. He cried into his shaking hands, regretting every word he said. He knew he, once again, took it too far. He said too much. When Yuuri comes back in the morning, he will make sure to apologize. He even left himself a note to remember, which he crumbled after a few light beers.

The next morning, he waited as long he could that morning, hoping that Yuuri would come back soon. On the way to practice, he kept searching for him. He couldn’t focus on his training. He kept seeing that sad smile. That smile crushed his heart more than anything Yuuri could have said. He knew that there was no turning back from that, but he would try. Russia’s Living Legend, The Six-Time World Champion, Victor Nikiforov was ready to swallow his pride and beg on his hands and knees if needed for forgiveness the moment he saw his fiancé. He would do anything to keep Yuuri in his life.

When Victor returned to their apartment that evening, Yuuri’s keyring sat on the kitchen island next to the wrinkled note with his gold ring and silver medals. Every other trace of him was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/17/20 - I added a detail and changed another.


	2. The Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter brought to you by the writer's apparent need to vent some more

Victor lived in that apartment for years before he even knew Yuuri existed. He bought all of the furniture. His dishes filled the cabinets. The kitchen was stocked with his favorite foods and snacks. The shelves held his dusty books. His clothes and costumes lined the master bedroom closet.

It did not truly become his home until Yuuri moved in. In those first few blessed months, Victor danced with Yuuri on these floors on lazy afternoons as they sang along (horribly) to classic rock on Victor’s previously neglected stereo. Yuuri cooked with him in that kitchen, where they had laughed over the first accidentally broken dish. They cuddled on that couch under the fluffiest blankets Victor had ever seen on chilly nights. Space was made on the shelf for Yuuri’s books. They hung photos of themselves and their families. They sipped wine in the bathtub surrounded by bubbles in each other’s arms. They made love into the morning in the master bedroom. Like the sun breaking through the storm clouds, Yuuri’s laughter filled the air with all of the light and warmth that Victor needed.

As the months passed, the good times faded. No amount of sweeping could get all of the glittering bits of glass off those floors. More dishes broke. Walls were punched. Meals were eaten in tense silence, increasingly alone. The fluffy blankets were left neatly folded on the couch, forgotten. Yuuri spent more and more nights crying by himself in the guest room. Victor spent more and more nights drinking light beers and the occasional vodka.

For the first month after Yuuri left, Victor held on to hope that he would return. Every moment not at the rink was spent watching the door. Any moment, there would be a knock and his Yuuri would be standing there with his beautiful smile. Victor would wrap his arms around him and never let him go again. He would do anything to get back to those first months.

The cold silence that Yuuri had blown away crept back into Victor’s life slowly. It appeared in the empty spaces in the closet that once held Yuuri’s clothes. It lingered on the tiny holes in the walls where his photos hung, and on the patches that covered larger holes. It was in the breaks in the dust line where Yuuri’s books were slid off the shelf. Loneliness laid claim to the empty side of the master bed.

One stormy night, when Victor found himself reaching for someone that wasn’t there, he realized the truth. Yuuri was gone. Yuuri was not coming back. He told the love of his life to not come back. It was his fault. He ruined everything.

“I made him leave,” Victor finally admitted to Yakov over the phone in tears.

“Katsuki left you?” It made sense. The Japanese skater had not been to the rink in a while. Every time Victor was asked about, he would say some excuse with that press smile plastered on his face then change the subject. Yakov knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to press. Bad things happen when touchy subjects are pressed to much.

“Yakov, tell…”Victor hiccupped into the phone, then laughed at himself. Everything echoed around him.

“Vitya, where are you?” There was a pause, then the unmistakable sound of a pill bottle rattling. A mumbled toast. A glass bottle hitting porcelain. Victor laughing again. “Victor Nikiforov! Answer me!”

“Yakov, tell my Yuuri I’m sorry,” was all Victor said before hanging up.

* * *

Yuuri only stayed in Hasetsu for a month. He regretted leaving Saint Petersburg. He regretted leaving Victor the moment he dropped his key and engagement ring on the counter. The door closing between them the night before felt like a knife cutting through the last of their connection. He ended it. Victor gave him a choice, and he made it.

Hasetsu no longer felt like home. All of his favorite places now held memories of Victor. They had gone to the summer festival together. They splashed in the waves at the beach and washed each other’s hair in the outdoor shower. They trained at the Ice Castle for months. Victor declared his intent to coach him at his family’s onsen. Their first time together was in the room down the hall from Yuuri’s bedroom.

Yuuri would not have returned to Japan at all, but he held on to hope that Victor would come to him. Every moment not at the rink was spent watching the Yu-Topia entrance. Any moment, Victor would walk in with Makkachin, wearing the heart-shaped grin at he adored. Yuuri would wrap his arms around him and never leave him again. He would forgive almost anything to get back to those first few months in the apartment.

Almost.

* * *

About a week later, Victor Nikiforov returned to the apartment with a small paper bag of prescription medication when he heard a familiar sound. Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing” playing on the stereo. The welcoming scent of katsudon lingered outside the door. He stood there, savoring the moment. Just in case this was a dream and slipping his key into the lock would break the spell. Instead, Makkachin started barking and the music was lowered. Taking a deep breath, Victor put on his best smile and swung the door open. “I’m back, Yuuri!”

It was as if the coldness that Victor felt closing in on him had enveloped Yuuri in his absence. How could such rich, chocolate brown eyes, look so cold, so empty? How could Yuuri, the light of Victor’s life, stare at him with such darkness? Like stepping outside into a sudden downpour of icy cold rain. None of the warmth Victor had been reaching for was there anymore. There was nothing left to reach for.

“I did not come back for you, Vitya,” Yuuri stated as calmly as he could. He wanted more than anything to throw his arms around Victor, especially when the older man fell to his knees in front of him. He wanted to make everything better. He would have waited until Victor was ready to start trying to fix them, even if it took the rest of their lives. Instead, Victor decided to mix vodka and sleeping pills, and leave him to deal with the media backlash that would surely follow if he succeeded. Victor should know damn well that Yuuri couldn’t handle that kind of pressure on his own. That it would break him too. So, Yuuri took a step back instead and grabbed his carry-on bag. “I came for Makkachin.”

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry!” Victor cried as the other man walked past him. His fingers barely brushed his coat. He wanted Yuuri to stay. God he wanted him to stay with him so bad. They were so close to getting those treasured first few months back. He could almost taste the wine again. He just needed Yuuri’s forgiveness. “Please! Stay with me?”

Just like the last time, Yuuri stopped at the door, struggling to hold back his tears. He wanted to stay. God he wanted to stay with Victor so bad. They were so close to getting those treasured first few months back. He could almost taste the wine again. It would be so much easier to stay. But there were somethings Yuuri just could not forgive that easily. “Good bye, Victor.”

As soon as the apartment door closed, Victor Nikiforov cried into his hands.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Yuuri Katsuki cried into his hands.

The apartment was completely empty a week later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Truthfully, if I left this at two chapters, I probably would have called it "The Apartment", but I don't like even numbers.  
> *Song mentioned is a personal choice.


	3. Valentine's Day

It was Valentine’s day. Stopping by a window at the rink Victor watched as snowflakes sparkled as they fell from the grey sky. To possibly everyone else, Saint Petersburg blanketed in soft white snow would have been inspiring. Victor remembered seeing the same sight years ago and choreographing entire programs based on it. This time it only left him feeling even more empty.

It reminded him of Hasetsu. On his first off-season trip to Japan, Victor had hoped to see the cherry blossoms with Yuuri. In fact, he had a whole date planned out for them. One day, obviously after much cuddling in their shared bed, he would take the Asian man to wherever he said the best place to see the cherry blossoms was. They would have a picnic with tiny pink petals fluttering in the breeze as they cuddled some more, because surely neither would want to be out of each other’s arms for too long. In the evening, under a pink and violet twilight sky, Victor would confess his feelings for Yuuri-ideally while picking flower petals out of his black hair-who was sure to have the same feelings, right? He clearly did at the banquet.

Victor should have taken the thick layer of snow burying the cherry blossom trees as a sign that it would not be that easy. They never actually got chance to see the cherry blossoms in Japan together. That year, the snow destroyed all of the fragile flowers before Victor’s plane even landed in Japan. The year after that, they were so busy with their own National competitions, Worlds, and then Yuuri moving into the Saint Petersburg apartment that they completely missed them. They planned to visit Yu-Topia the following April-even if they had to withdraw from Worlds-so they could catch the cherry blossoms. Then the fighting started.

Watching his reflection in the glass, Victor touched the rings that hung from the silver chain around his neck. They had so many stupid fights before their break up. Looking back, Victor knew that the things they fought over probably were not worth being angry about by themselves. Like the snow outside, the disagreements just piled up until that night. Victor kept wondering what lead to that fight. What reason did he have to tell the love of his life to leave?

Victor was tempted to send Yuuri a message. He didn’t know where his ex-fiancé moved to after leaving Saint Petersburg. He knew-from Yurio of all people-that Japan’s Ace did not return home after his last visit. Since he didn’t know the time where he was, Victor figured that a message would be better. He just wanted to talk to him so bad. The Russian man just didn’t know what to say. How did he say that he wanted him back without being desperate enough to literally say “please take me back”?

What if Yuuri had moved on? It definitely sounded he wanted to move on when he said good bye the last time. Yuuri deserved someone more like him. Someone who would try to stop and listen. Who wouldn’t start shouting and throwing things. Someone better than Victor.

Something about the snow glittering outside made him break. Victor decided to send a quick message. If Yuuri rejected it, he would leave it at that. He could just say that he accident drunk texted him. Considering his water bottle contained watered-down vodka, that likely wasn’t far from the truth.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

It was also snowing outside Yuuri’s apartment. He stood by his window, watching the sparkling snow fall as he sipped his morning coffee. The first of many cups of coffee that day. It was hard to sleep through the night, and harder to stay in bed alone. Instead, Yuuri simply started his day earlier than necessary. He ended up watching the sunrise over the neighboring buildings every morning, wondering if Victor took the time to do the same.

This time, he couldn’t help but to think about Valentine’s day the year before. He told Victor that he was not feeling well, but that he should go to practice that day. He had taken the previous year off from competition and, while he didn’t completely slack off, Victor did spend increasingly less time skating as the months passed. He barely took home gold at the Russian Nationals, beating Yuri by a closer margin than the teenager beat him at the Grand Prix, and-shockingly-he had scored higher than both of them at the Japanese nationals.

Truthfully, Yuuri didn’t feel great that morning, but not from any disease. It was his first time making Valentine’s day chocolate. It was their first Valentine’s day together, so he wanted to try making homemade chocolates for Victor. His fiancé loved surprises after all. Yuuri ended up having to call his mother for help, who giggled at the idea of her son making Valentine’s chocolate.

Just as Yuuri finished wrapping the poodle-shaped chocolates in a box, Victor strolled in the door. Yuuri remembered holding out the box, hoping it was good enough. Like the girls in middle and high school, he hoped that the subject of his feelings would accept. Then Victor reached into his skate bag and pulled out a similar box for Yuuri. He admitted to calling “Hiroko-kasan”, early that morning, for help making the chocolates. They both laughed as they tried each other’s candies.

Yuuri smiled at the memory, lifting his right hand to kiss the ring that was not there. It was a habit. He hoped that habit never faded. As angry as he still was at Victor, Yuuri still loved him. He knew his ex-fiancé was likely training at this time, and he wanted to talk to him so bad. The Japanese man just didn’t know what to say. How did he say that he wanted him back, without being desperate enough to literally say “please take me back”?

What if Victor had moved on? He had planned to move on. Yuuri even made a point of saying good bye the last time they saw each other, even if it did kill him a little. Victor deserved someone more like him. Someone without the anxiety blocking them from telling him when he’s full of shit. Someone who wouldn’t run when he got too loud. Someone less damaged than a dime-a-dozen skater like him.

The snow swirled as Yuuri walked outside. It was a short walk from his apartment building to the ice rink. He needed to train for Worlds as well. Even if the rink did close early, Yuuri could squeeze a couple of hours in. Then he heard a familiar text tune, one he hadn’t heard in months. "Stammi Vicino". Victor.

Vitya

(I love you)

Yuuri smiled as he read it. Then reread it. Then read it one more time to make sure it was a new message and not his mind playing games with him. Victor did still love him. He quickly started typing his reply…

…and missed the car skidding on black ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I actually had the rest of this fic already written, but then decided that I didn't like it. Then today, while trying to relearn guitar chords I started typing this. In fact, I wrote this entire chapter around a guitar.
> 
> Next chapter will come...eventually?


	4. The Interview

“Hello! This is Amelia Smith, live in Saint Petersburg, Russia, with six time figure skating world champion Victor Nikiforov,” the woman standing next to Victor said directly into the camera, before turning to the skater. “Thank you for having us, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“Just call me Victor,” the Russian skater said to the TV show’s host. He leaned against the rink railing, hoping that the other skaters weren’t paying attention to him. He always felt awkward having interviews there, especially live on air TV interviews. He liked to keep TV Victor separate from training Victor. It could not be helped though, as he was flying out to Finland early the next morning. Victor also rarely did interviews with American reporters. US citizens only somewhat cared about figure skating during the winter Olympics. Then again, he was not too surprised when he was asked for an interview. Somehow, figure skating fans around the planet had this idea that Worlds that year was going to be this ultimate show down between Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki. Victor stopped watching TV because there was too much hype about it even before February. He had been asked about it by so many people online that he actually logged out of all social media, and he hoped Yuuri had done the same.

Yuuri never replied on Valentine’s day.

“Alright then Victor,” the journalist said as she shifted on the box she stood on so they were close to eye level. Victor thought that she was pretty, though part of it may be because she resembled Yuuri before he started training him. God, was he really that desperate for him? “This year is your…seventh Worlds in a row. How do you feel going into this?”

_‘Complicated,’_ he thought. He had so many thoughts about this particular competition, though it was more about Yuuri. It would be their first time seeing each other in months. He hoped to get a chance to talk to his ex, though it seemed unlikely. In the videos from the Japanese Nationals, Yuuri always had someone with him-either Celestino or Phichit. It was very likely that at least Yuuri’s current coach would be nearby at all times. The only place Victor might catch him alone was in the locker room, if he was lucky. Instead, he settled with a grin as he answered, “I am very excited to compete against five very talented colleagues.” That covered Yuuri too.

Amelia’s jaw dropped. The camera shook a little. Behind them, the rink went silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Victor could feel everyone staring at him, before the whispers started. He looked over the woman’s shoulder at Yakov, who actually looked shocked for once. What? Did he say something wrong?

“Ah…um…Victor, did you not hear that Mr. Katsuki was withdrawn due to a car accident?”

“Why did she have to put it like that?” Yuuri complained groggily over a bowl of ice cream as they watched the live stream on his laptop. So what if it was barely 6am? The doctor did say to eat with his pain medication and, since he and Phichit were done with the season, they agreed that ice cream can be breakfast. It was dairy, which has calcium. Calcium is good for broken bones. They even threw some strawberries on top! Healthy!

Phichit yawned next to Yuuri. While the Japanese skater was amazingly graceful at literally everything else, he was like a bull in a china shop on crutches. Already, all of their dishes had been replaced with paper or plastic versions because Japan’s Ace either dropped or knocked over most of them. Even his laptop had a few fresh dents and scratches. The Thai skater was used to waking up to his friend’s medicine timers to keep him from hurting himself on the way to the kitchen. “It’s true.”

“I’m not dying!” Yuuri protested, looking down at his leg in its medical boot. Somehow, a broken leg, fractured ribs, and a concussion did not feel as lucky as the doctor had repeatedly told him. If he were lucky, that car would have missed him altogether. He should have been packing for Worlds. He should have spent the last few weeks at the rink training instead of sitting on the couch binge-watching shows on his laptop. He should have been preparing to see Victor again.

Because his phone had been shattered in the accident, Yuuri couldn’t text Victor back. Actually, it was because of Victor’s text that Yuuri had not been directly hit by that car. According to the doctor, if he had been just a few steps ahead, that car could have sent him flying. He could have been in far worse shape, or even could have died. That one text very likely saved his life.

The live stream ended abruptly, though not before showing the reporter catching Victor’s arm as he started to sink to the floor. The two skaters sat there, watching their stunned faces reflected back from the dark screen. Victor - Russia’s Living Legend, Multi-World Champion - Nikiforov just fainted on live TV. He fainted hearing about his ex’s accident. The ex who suddenly dropped his spoon of vanilla ice cream and strawberry syrup running down his shirt.

Yakov was already angry. He had spent the last half an hour lecturing Victor. Damn idiot had been bringing watered- down vodka to practice in his water bottle for over a month! No wonder his jumps were so bad by the end of the day! Victor managed to slowly dehydrate himself to the point of fainting.

He really did not need Celestino Cialdini calling at that moment. “If you say “ciao” even once I’m hanging up!”

Victor laid on a bench, holding a cold bottle of plain water against his forehead. His hand wouldn’t stop trembling. The reporter left already, and his rink mates were keeping their distance from him and Yakov. No one had given Victor any details about Yuuri. That had to be bad. He was sure it was bad. What if Yuuri was gone? Victor had only returned to competitive skating because of Yuuri. Without him, there was no point. Part of him was even considering trying to drop out of Worlds. It was unlikely to happen though, not without lots of hassle and even more yelling from Yakov.

“It’s for you,” Yakov grumbled, thrusting his phone at Victor.

Victor didn’t even sit up as he put the phone up to his ear. “Celestino! Ciao ciao!” he answered, just to annoy his coach. Even if it made his headache worse.

“It’s Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ice cream for breakfast <3
> 
> *Next chapter is the last one (which I'm going to rewrite again) plus epilogue and my final notes.

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a mood. I needed to vent...I guess?
> 
> If you like, give kudos and subscribe!


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